Unexpected
by K. East
Summary: He swayed slightly in his place, the scent of stale alcohol reaching her like a whisper-thin reminder that this wasn't right, that he wasn't right. But his eyes were, finally, clear and his words were coherent. And he leaned forward. And she flinched.


_Unexpected_

As the moon dropped down into the horizon and light poured in from the sky, a man who was curled up in the east window felt the sunrise on his skin and shifted ever so slightly, mumbling to himself. He was perched precariously on the sill with one leg hitched up so he could lean his chin on his knee, the other leg draped gracefully down to the floor, where his booted toe brushed against the carpet. He twitched.

His dark hair fell into his eyes, hiding from view the pale blue circles that spoke of insomnia and illness. He slumped forward, falling off the window sill and onto the floor, where he lay with comical drowsiness, his lips moving and speaking more clearly now:

"What the bloody hell..."

"Yeah, you've been out for a bit," said a voice from the corner. It came from a woman who stood with her arms crossed, looking at him skeptically as if she'd been waiting quite a long time for him to awake. She had bright pink hair and very dark eyes that seemed to laugh though she herself was scowling.

"Tonks?" the man said into the carpet, his speech a bit garbled. "Eugh..."

The woman, Tonks, strode over and poked him with her toe. "Up," she said impatiently, "C'mon, we're all waiting for you."

The man snorted impolitely and rolled onto his back, blinking blearily up at his unexpected companion. Now it was very clear, judging by the paleness of his skin and the scratchy shadow on his chin, that he wasn't well at all. He yawned. "Who's 'we'?"

"Molly, Arthur, and me," she informed him. "And, ah, Remus."

"Remus?"

There was a beat of silence as he struggled to his feet, swaying slightly, his eyes still half-closed.

"What's he doing here?" he wanted to know, rubbing his chin and then dusting off his wrinkled clothes. "Isn't he on duty today?"

"No," she said bemusedly. "Bill's on duty - thought you knew. Molly and Arthur thought they'd come cheer you up, y'know, you and Remus being up in here in this house all by yourselves, and I sort of volunteered to come along."

The man nodded and shook his head like a dog, seemingly to rouse himself. When he looked back at Tonks, his eyes were open and focused, albeit cloudy. "Let's go, then," he said, nodding at the door.

"Wait," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You smell of liquor. Molly will have a fit."

He tilted his head. "Then by all means, Tonks, fix it."

She heaved a great sigh, though those eyes were laughing again, and tugged from her pocket a slim magic wand. She trailed it up and down his clothing, smoothing out wrinkles and removing any trace odor of alcohol. "There," she said after a moment. "Now no one will believe you're the sloppy drunkard you really are."

He smiled wryly at her. "Thanks as usual, Tonks."

"You're welcome as usual, Sirius."

--

The man - Sirius - settled himself delicately at the table in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, expecting a lecture from Molly. The woman treated him like he was five years old, something that he secretly believed was fair, considering he'd spent a third of his life away from society.

But instead he was met with an awkward silence as they all shifted in their seats and watched him. Remus looked just as ill as he, pale and mild and trying to force out a smile but failing. Unconsciously the man reached up and rubbed the scar that trailed down the left side of his face, clearing his throat.

"Good to see you, Sirius."

Sirius brushed his hair out of his eyes and reached for a fork, not responding. It was clear that he didn't find it very good to see anyone. At either end of the table were Molly and Arthur Weasley; the former was watching this exchange (or lack thereof) with a sharp eye, but she said nothing.

Then there was a thumping from the hallway and a great shatter and a yell, and soon a shrill, raspy screaming filled the house: "_Scum! Blood traitors! Filth, blemish of disgrace!_"

No one moved. Tonks stumbled into the room, apologizing fruitlessly, but the damage was done. Sirius lowered his gaze to the worn wooden table and shook slightly, gritting his teeth together and furrowing his brow as they watched. His face became a curious shade of rosy pink, his eyes (which were still weathered and cloudy) darkened considerably, and he let out a dry _woosh_ of breath.

"Anyone going to get that?" he finally spat, digging his fingernails into his knees. Remus jumped.

"I will," he said, moving hastily toward the door. There was a couple angry words from upstairs, a muttered spell, and a loud _bang_ before the screaming fell short.

"I'm so sorry, everyone," Tonks said helplessly, falling into a chair. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I broke that vase by the stairs -"

"It's fine," he cut in, rising from his seat. His chest moved out and in a little too quickly as he sucked in his breath. "I didn't like it that much anyway."

--

"Come down."

Silence.

"Open the door."

More silence.

"Open the _door_, Sirius."

Inside the room, Sirius was lying on the floor looking at the ceiling. A thin layer of dust lay over every surface in the attic, and when he breathed in, he let out a series of muffled coughs. He pressed his hand against his mouth until the skin turned white, but she'd heard and knew he wasn't dead, something he probably thought was a pity. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyelashes stuck wetly together as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Outside, Tonks was leaning against the door and pressing her ear indiscreetly against the thin wood, listening to him breathe. Her hair was violently purple now, a change she'd made without really thinking, and her eyes were no longer laughing. She listened, and after a few minutes heard the clink of a glass bottle against the wood slats of the floor.

Behind her were the stairs that led steeply down to the heart of the house. The Weasleys had departed soon after a strained breakfast, but she'd stayed. She had to stay. Remus was watching from the landing.

"Let me try," he said. The woman shook her head, then thought better of it and backed away. Remus brushed past her on the stairs - her heartbeat quickened momentarily - and then _he_ was at the door.

"Sirius?" he tried. "You there?"

He must've heard the same as she had, because a disgusted and disappointed expression quickly erupted over his face and he backed away.

"He's drinking again," he relayed irritably to Tonks. She nodded absently and stared at the door. They were the only two who knew of Sirius's recurring problem. It was beginning to anger them both.

"I can hear you, you know," a hoarse voice said from behind the door.

"Then open the bloody door," Remus said loudly. Tonks cast a wary glance down the stairs, where Walburga Black's portrait stuck stubbornly to one wall, disguised with curtains. There was no response from Sirius.

Remus seemed to take this personally and stomped - albeit quietly - down to the landing, not looking back. His ears were red, likely with rage.

Tonks turned to the door.

"This is unlike you, Sirius," she said to the wooden barrier, pressing her palms against it and leaning her weight forward. Her mouth tilted down in a slight frown. "You love company. You loved company at Christmas."

Still, nothing.

"Remember, you sang carols non-stop," she added. "Best spirits I've ever seen you in."

There was the distinct sound of rustling from behind the door as he presumably shifted his position. She heard a thump and a muttered curse word, and her face went slightly pink for some unknown reason, but at least he wasn't being completely noiseless. At least he hadn't drunk himself into oblivion. Yet.

"Was it because Harry was over?" she mused, aware she was now venturing into dangerous territory. There were certain topics that all Order members learned to avoid with Sirius Black, his godson being one of them. He was exceedingly proud of Harry, but once someone suggested that he was not quite a suitable guardian for the boy, it evoked a lot of temper. "He reminds you of James, doesn't he?"

Another taboo was mentioning Harry's father.

She heard more rustling, louder and closer than before, and then the door cracked open an inch. And then an inch more. And more, until Sirius was standing there before her with his dark unkempt hair and his exhausted eyes and his still-thin body. There was a mix of anger and frustration on his face.

"Yeah, he reminds me of James," he said shortly. Tonks felt her face flush and her heartbeat sped up _again_, a curious stab of anxiety that she shouldn't have felt. He was staring at her with a gaze so intense that she thought she might crumble under it.

"I'm - I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He swayed slightly in his place, the scent of stale alcohol reaching her like a whisper-thin reminder that this wasn't right, that he wasn't right. But his eyes were, finally, clear and his words were coherent. And he leaned forward. And she flinched.

He paused just inches away from her face, his head tipped slightly to the left, his lips parted slightly. She only had to move forward a little and everything would happen then, every barrier would be shattered, and something terribly wrong but terribly necessary would occur. His eyes were just half-closed as he watched her for that brief millisecond before she spoke. Or tried to speak.

"You..."

"Is this okay?" he breathed in an unrecognizable tone. He was trembling. And so was she.

"I..."

Time was up. She didn't move. He pulled away. Something crossed his face then, something dark and similar to loathing, but it didn't seem directed at her, and after a second his face was blank, expression-less, the same Sirius Black she'd always seen before. But now she knew _that_ Sirius Black was a façade.

"Sorry," he said _almost_ smoothly, a slight break in his voice as he said this. "I'm drunk."

He wasn't drunk. Everyone knew what he was like drunk.

The man closed the door in Tonks's face, and on either side of this barrier they both were silent, contemplating.

Tonks thought: _He's my cousin._

Sirius thought: _Remus fancies her._

And then they both thought, standing there shaking in their shoes, _But..._

**

* * *

Author's Note: **This was just an experimental little piece here. I actually find Sirius/Tonks a really appealing pairing to write about - it's got this serious forbidden-fruit feel to it that's amazing. (My excuse, also, is that they're not _that_ closely related, and, er, in the Black family [and therefore perhaps Sirius's eyes] it's not really that strange of a situation. Sirius's parents were second cousins.)

Anyway, I realize it probably could've used a lot more development, but I'm sort of out of ideas. So there you go. Review, por favor!


End file.
